


assistance

by fluorescentshrimp



Category: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: F/F, fluffy-ish for a 'tending to your wounds' fic, hurt/comfort? kind of?, short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24889408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluorescentshrimp/pseuds/fluorescentshrimp
Summary: Eirika is injured during battle. L'arachel does not like this.
Relationships: Eirika/L'Arachel (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	assistance

Rapier in hand, Eirika rushes forward, striking the revenant with the stab of a talented fencer. With a flick of her wrist, L’arachel casts her shine spell. The beam of light strikes true, the revenant crumbles into a pile of ash. Another foe vanquished.

L’arachel takes a deep breath and collects herself, readying her tome to face another undead creature. She glances towards Eirika, ready to rally her companion onwards, and is hit with an uneasy feeling.

Something that’s dark and red and makes L’arachel’s stomach twist draws a thick line down Eirika’s arm, continuing down the princess’s hand and staining the hilt of her rapier. L’arachel’s mind begins to race and she jumps to conclusions she knows may (or may not) be foolish- it’s blood, it’s Eirika’s blood.

L’arachel’s breath hitches in her throat. Eirika seems to not care, or have not even noticed her injury, agitating L’arachel more. Instead, Eirika has already moved on to her next foe, expertly fending off an undead dog. She’s fine, L’arachel tries to reassure herself, but L’arachel cannot be satisfied with ‘fine’. This lack of foresight on her part will not do.

“Eirika!” L’arachel calls, waving the princess over. L’arachel leaps off her horse and meets her halfway anyways. 

“What is it?” Eirika asks, sheathing her rapier. L’arachel tracks the movement carefully, watching for any sign of discomfort.

“I believe you are injured.”

“I’m fine, really.” 

L’arachel scoffs. “There is blood on your hands. Let me see them.”

“I’m fine,” Eirika says again.

“Please.”

“Dirt and filth on my hands doesn’t surprise me,” Eirika says, shaking her head dismissively. “Let it be for now. The villagers will be safe, so long as we finish off the monsters quickly. You can clean me up afterward.”

“No,” L’arachel says firmly. “I will not ‘let it be’. Let me see your injuries now.” She reaches for Eirika’s injured arm, clasping the princess’s hand firmly in her own before Eirika can pull away. Eirika doesn't try to. 

Inspecting Eirika’s injury with delicate fingers, L’arachel’s fears are confirmed to be true. A long slice stretches diagonally across Eirika’s forearm. The wound is still open, and L’arachel isn’t sure how long Eirika has been bleeding out. It isn’t a deep wound, luckily, but it is clear a healer has not attended to it yet. 

L’arachel sucks in a breath. For a moment, she doesn’t speak. “You let yourself stay injured like this?”

Eirika blinks owlishly at L’arachel, then back at her wound. “I don’t, not usually,” she says. “But there’s no time to care for my wounds. The villagers should come first.”

L’arachel glares disapprovingly. “Let the others take care of those fiends. There’s always time for me to heal you.”

Eirika pauses. “I suppose you’re right.” She hums.

“Do me a favor and keep this from becoming a habit, will you?” L’arachel says. “I don’t want you becoming as reckless as your brother.” A small smile creeps onto the princess’s face. “...Are you willing to cooperate now?”

“Alright,” Eirika huffs playfully, returning the smile.

L’arachel clasps her hands together in anticipation. “Lovely.” She pulls out a vulnerary and pops it open. “It was foolish of me to not think to bring any staves, but I suppose this will do. Keep your palm open for me?” Erika obeys.

Gently holding Eirika’s injured hand in hers, L’arachel pauses, realizing she lacked bandages and cleaning cloth as well. How careless! L’arachel berates herself internally. Thinking quickly, the Princess of Light decides to use the next best thing.

L’arachel grabs the hem of her gold-trimmed, white dress and rips off a long strip. Eirika flinches. “Your dress!”

L’arachel grins. “What about my dress?” She empties some of the vulnerary into her cloth and presses it against Eirika’s skin, the cold liquid making the princess shiver. L’arachel cleans the area in and around Eirika’s injury in gentle circles, careful to not cause her any additional pain. Once the wound was cleaned to her satisfaction, L’arachel rips another, longer strip off of her dress with a sharp tearing sound. Eirika winces at the noise. L’arachel carefully wraps the makeshift bandage around the wound without a second thought, neatly tying the cloth into place. “There. Now, do try to be more careful.”

Eirika stares at her bandage, then back at L’arachel, fingers hovering above her bandage’s gold trim. “Why did you do that?”

“Why?” L’arachel echoes. “We fight together, don’t we? It would not do for you to be injured.” 

“You loved that dress,” Eirika says, still shocked. 

L’arachel laughs in response, like tinkling bells. “Oh, I love it more, now that I’ve done this!” Her fingers brush lightly against the (now raw) hem of her dress. “My clothing doesn't mean anything to me. You are more important than any dress.”


End file.
